


No Rest For The Weary

by Zafra



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 04:32:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11844006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zafra/pseuds/Zafra
Summary: Rodney can't sleep. John helps.





	No Rest For The Weary

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in 2008 on Wraithbait for Temaris (SGA Secret Santa Fic)

Rodney kicked off his covers for the fifth time and sighed weightily. No one would hear it in his quarters, but it had become such an ingrained habit he barely noticed. "This officially sucks." He had heard about this the last time he was on Earth for a de-briefing. The aching, the tingling, the sheer mind-numbing urge to be doing *anything* but lying in bed. Before he had just chalked it up to life in the Pegasus Galaxy. Now, armed with research and information, he decided there was no time like the present. He couldn't take it, anymore.

He knew what this was. He could take care of it. Or rather Keller, the new resident voodoo priestess, could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Listen, I realize I'm not a doctor of voodoo, but I've done the research. I'm hypoglycemic, you know. That can make it worse."

"The medications you're already taking for nausea and allergies could be aggravating it, if not causing it, too. We could try taking you off..."

"Seriously, I know you just stepped through the gate and all, but you have to have heard who I am by now? Dr. Rodney McKay? The one who saves our asses on an almost daily basis? Yeah, pleased to meet you, too."

"I know who you are, Dr. McKay..."

"Well, then you know how important it is that I get some sleep. And I can't do that if I'm not in bed. And why am I not in bed? Oh, yes. Because my legs are feeling all itchy and I have to jump out of it every five minutes!"

Dr. Keller sighed the sigh of the defeated and Rodney allowed himself to gloat a little, internally. He knew, realistically, Carson would have given in as well, but in deference to his departed friend, he'd like to believe he would have lasted a bit longer.

"Fine. I don't have this type of medicine here, but I can write you a prescription and you can either fill it through the SGC or on your own next time you are on Earth."

"Right, because I would like to not get sleep for the next six months." Rodney practically ripped the prescription form from her slender hands. "I'll fill it soon as I get a chance."

He heard a terse 'you're welcome' follow him out of the infirmary, but he was too pre-occupied to give it much thought. If he got the prescription filled through the SGC, that would mean he'd have to requisition it. God love bureaucracy, that meant he needed another signature on the form. At his level, that left only two people and there was no way in the world he was going to Carter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had done this a thousand times for a thousand reasons that seemed much worse than asking for a signature on a form and yet his hand hesitated from waving over the keypad to announce his presence. He could have just snuck it in with all the other forms that had to be cross-verified for accuracy and to make sure no one was requesting anything dangerous or illegal on the expedition. He *could* have, but he didn't. Why? The worst thing that could happen was Sheppard would finally think he wasn't team material. He had too many quirks, too many problems. He thought that every time something went wrong on a mission – this would be 'the time'. He got that they were friends and he appreciated the Colonel's own brand of geekiness and ability to keep up with Rodney's often erratic trains of thought. Rodney knew, however, that only his genius was keeping him on Atlantis' flagship team. There were other scientists. Other prettier, more in-shape scientists who Rodney was sure Sheppard had on his reserve list should Rodney become too much of a liability or simply no longer able to go offworld.

He didn't want to think too hard about how that might happen.

Finally giving up, he waved his hand across the access panel, eliciting a chirp to announce his presence. The door gave him exactly two seconds to compose his thoughts before swooshing open to reveal one Lt. Colonel John Sheppard, sitting at his desk.

"How can I help you, Rodney?"

"I, um, need a favor." Rodney shifted back and forth, more for release of nervous energy than the feelings his body seemed to conjure up when he laid down.

"Really? The kind of favor that makes you come hunt me down in my office at," he made a show of checking his watch, "two-thirty in the afternoon? We just ate lunch what, an hour ago? I didn't imagine that, did I?"

"No, you didn't. I was there, and unfortunately so was the liver. Listen, I need this requisitioned on the next shipment." Rodney shoved the wrinkled paper at his team leader, silently praying he would just stick it on his desk for later while, at the same time, knowing the futility of that wish.

"Rodney? Everything ok, buddy?"

"What, oh yeah, that? No big deal. Not at all. Fine, perfectly fine just need some help at night." At John's raised eyebrows, he hastily added, "sleeping! I need help sleeping."

"And the horse tranquilizers down in the infirmary aren't working?"

"Funny. No, it's not that I'm not tired, it's just my legs."

"Are you in pain? Did you pull something on that last run-for-our-lives episode?"

"Probably, but no, look I appreciate your concern but I am fine. There's no need to panic, I'll be in the gateroom tomorrow fresh-faced and ready to go as always."

"Yeah, you do look like you need a shave, there, Rodney."

The smile was the same small teasing one he'd seen a thousand times since coming through the wormhole but it went right through him this time. "Right, so if you don't need me for anything," waiting a heartbeat and getting John's wave of dismissal, Rodney took off for his own office as quickly as possible. He was just glad Keller had the same bad handwriting gene all doctors did. He figured they must give some sort of class on how to write like that in college. It was unlikely Sheppard would be able to decipher the writing, and thus be unable to tease him – or even better, tell Ronon and Teyla, and have them do it for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The supply run couldn't come fast enough for Rodney. As he paced the too-short length of his quarters he wondered for probably not the last time if they would send him to the new shrink if he dialed the gate and demanded they throw the bottle he'd requested through. Right. Freaking. Now. He was so absorbed in contemplating his limited options that the chirp of his door completely caught him off-guard. His "Come in," sounded more like a question – he had long since stopped believing in the monster under the bed but life in this galaxy had shown him much worse monsters to fear.

"Rodney. Figured you'd be up – thought I'd drop by."

"You figured out what the prescription was for." Rodney's voice was flat and defeatist. Why did he bother? It was obvious the Universe was out to get him. Revenge for trying to unravel its secrets.

"Well, actually I asked Keller."

"Oh." What could he say? Thanks for being concerned, commence with the teasing? Before he realized it, he heard his voice saying just that. So much for a brain/mouth filter. He'd been meaning to change his out for some time. It got clogged after two days with new lab people.

"Did you think I wouldn't check up on you? You're my *friend*, Rodney."

"Yes, yes, I know. As my friend I'm sure you ran down to the infirmary, paper-in-hand, wondering if this was it."

"What?"

"You, scurrying to the infirmary, are you even listening..."

"No, not 'what-did-you-say, what, but 'it' what."

"Thank you for vagueing-it-up for me, Colonel."

Sighing, John walked fully into the room and sat down on Rodney's messy bed. "You said I would be wondering if 'this was it'. What it?"

"You know, *the* it. The you-can't-take-anymore it."

"Rodney." Sheppard used the 'dangerous' voice – the one he usually reserved for when Rodney needed to shut up and focus pronto. "What do you think I won't be able to take anymore, someday?"

"Me." When nothing was forthcoming from Sheppard but a disbelieving look, he continued. "I'm never going to be soldier material – and stop because I know what you're going to say. I'm not supposed to or expected to be. I know that. What I'm saying is, this is as good as it gets with me. Strange food upsets my stomach, I itch from bugs and dirt, I can't eat anything with citrus, I get stress headaches from trying to keep everyone here alive on a daily basis and walking more than four miles makes me feel about eighty-years old." Pausing for breath, he saw Sheppard about to interrupt. "No, wait, let me get this out. I appreciate that you're my friend. You're probably the first honest-to-goodness real friend I've had in a long time. But at some point you are going to have to let that go. There are other scientists who can go on first-contact missions with you. Some that are better suited to it than me – I end up insulting people without even trying."  
Sheppard chuffed at that – jerk.  
"I just," Rodney faltered, not really sure how to say what he was feeling. "I just want you to be ok out there. You, Ronon, Teyla – you guys are my friends and I would – it would kill me to know that something happened to any of you because I was me." He expected something. Anything. But Sheppard sat there, staring at him with an odd expression on his face. He looked like he was in pain. Knowing Sheppard's penchant for not expressing real emotion, he assumed he probably was.

"You're an idiot, McKay."

Ah, there it was. Rodney let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Yes, but I'm an ingenious idiot."

"I'm too tired to work out the holes in that theory right now." John rubbed his hand over his face to illustrate the point. "Being tired as I am, I'll cut right to the chase. You don't have RLS."

"Really? Been to medical school while I wasn't looking?"

"Have you?"

It cut, and Rodney's face showed the wound. "I've done the research..."

"You've watched a bunch of commercials that have convinced you this mysterious ailment is the answer to all of your problems. I talked with Keller – she tried to tell you it might only be symptomatic of your other medicines but you wouldn't listen."

"She's a voodoo practitioner! All of them would say the same..."

"You would have listened to Carson." Admittedly it was a low blow, but John didn't see where he had much of a choice in the matter. It was definitely late, they had a mission in the, thankfully, late morning, and he was not going to let Rodney trek off to another planet with yet another drug in his system. It pained him to see the look on his friend's face, but this was for his own good. "I'm not trying to make light of your 'issues', Rodney. I would never feed you citrus and I try really hard to find planet's with gates close to civilization for us to visit." That earned him a snort. "But work with me here – I think this time it's just simply projection."

"Projection? Who have you been talking to?" The name went unsaid between them, but the hurt was palpable in the room.

"Lie down." Ignoring what wasn't said, John made a show of removing some papers and books off Rodney's bed in preparation for him. "Now I know why you came to my room to learn how to meditate," he commented. "How can you even *think* in here?"

"I'm usually not in here."

"That explains quite a bit, actually. Glad to hear it, too."

"Why? Don't want to be friends with a slob?"

"No, they don't make a 'neat' pill." It fell flat, but John was too tired to care. "Here, which side do you want."

"Last time I checked it was just me. There is no 'side'."

 

"Tonight there is. Pick." He punctuated his meaning by sitting down and untying his shoes.

"Oh my god, you are not serious. Are you?"

"Do I look serious?"

He did, he really did. Crap. "I know we've slept in the same tent before, but really I'm not that kind of guy."

John laughed. "Well, that's good because I'm tired and you probably have a headache." Shucking his pants, John flopped back onto the pillow, squirming on the thick mattress. "I have got to get me one of these."

"That's an orthopedic mattress. I had to requisition it and you can't imagine the hell I went through."

"Who co-signed that paperwork?"

"Elizabeth." The silent pause was shorter this time, but not less felt. "Have you brushed your teeth?"

"What? Geez, Rodney; military. I flossed, too. Happy?"

"Ecstatic." Seeing as Sheppard was comfortable on the bed, Rodney had no choice but to join him on the other side. "This is so weird."

"We fight space vampires. Trust me, you'll get over it."

"I still don't see what this has to do with my not having RLS."

"You will in a few minutes."

"No funny stuff, mister. I have a gun under this bed and I'm not afraid to use it."

"Good to know. I keep mine under the pillow, but that's me."

"Seriously? Nevermind."

"Go to sleep, Rodney." He gave it a few minutes and then intoned more softly, "Goodnight."

Rodney was asleep.


End file.
